


Follow Suit

by SpaceQueer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bondage, Bottom Sherlock Holmes, Daddy Kink, Edgeplay, Established Relationship, M/M, Omorashi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top John Watson, Watersports, dicking down
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 06:39:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8834251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceQueer/pseuds/SpaceQueer
Summary: “What’s wrong?” John asked, instantly giving Sherlock a once over but stopping when he got to Sherlock’s groin. Sherlock was half-hard and rather visibly so.

  Sherlock’s initial terror morphed into a mischievous smile. “Also, I- I need to pee,” he confessed.
 Or: John is his own cockblock but always follows through on promises.





	

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [Ankita](http://boffinholmes.tumblr.com) and [Bee](http://flamboyantdetective.tumblr.com) for getting my lazy ass to write some pwp.

 

“As you can see from the pictures…  where’s the button again?” Once more Dr Woods fiddled with the controls for the presentation, beyond perplexed by the technology in use, despite the fact that the lectures at this conference had been organised almost three months in advance and there was an audience of some 400 people, most of which were dozing by this point. 

 

John sighed as a staff member ran onstage to help, face flushed bright red with embarrassment. He turned to Sherlock beside him, expecting some quip or deduction but found Sherlock’s eyes closed in sleep. He looked blissfully peaceful in sleep despite the stiff suit he wore. John smiled fondly, bending over to place a chaste kiss on Sherlock’s cheek. Sherlock stirred slightly, leaning into John’s touch but remaining asleep. John took one of Sherlock’s hands in his and began to gently play with it, running the pads of his fingers over the grooves and planes but returning his attention back to the stage.

 

“In conclusion,” the speaker finally said, words that were music to John’s ears, “I think you’ll find the evidence quite compellingly fits my argument. I would reiterate my arguments but,” he laughed nervously, “I wouldn’t want to bore you. Thank you for listening.”

 

As if waking from a dream, or perhaps a movie, the lights turned up and slowly people all around John started to move towards the exits. Once the auditorium was largely empty, John turned back to Sherlock, hand still in his.

 

“Hey, love,” John murmured, using his spare hand to brush away Sherlock’s slightly sweaty curls from his forehead. “It’s finished. We can leave now.”

 

Sherlock’s eyes fluttered open, looking dazed for a moment before wincing slightly.

 

“What’s wrong?” John asked, instantly giving Sherlock a once over but stopping when he got to Sherlock’s groin. Sherlock was half-hard and rather visibly so.

 

Sherlock’s initial terror morphed into a mischievous smile. “Also, I- I need to pee,” he confessed as he directed their interlocked hands toward his boner but John ripped his hand out at the last minute. 

 

“What are you doing?” Sherlock asked, still acting coy and placing his hand on his thigh, tantalising close to his crotch. “There’s no one here to catch us. Why worry?”

 

“No,” John growled, even though Sherlock’s observations of them being alone were correct, “Greg is out there waiting for us and if we don’t get out there soon, he’ll come in here looking for us.” John stood, looking imperiously down on Sherlock, “Anyway, after that lecture, I deserve to fuck you until you scream and make you beg, not a quick handjob before we’re caught.” Sherlock bit his lip, stuck between his need for relief and his need to obey John. “Do I make myself clear?” John commanded in a voice that left no room for questioning.

 

“Yes, sir,” Sherlock nodded. He closed his eyes and forced himself to calm down for a moment before finally standing up to follow John as they left the auditorium.

 

Just as John had predicted, Greg was waiting just outside the doors, where Sherlock and John were greeted with the muffled ambience of a crowd conversing. A deputy from the NSY was obviously retelling something to Greg but as soon as he clapped eyes on Sherlock and John, he turned away.

 

“You two alright?” Greg asked.

 

“Yeah, of course. This one just took a while waking up,” John replied, affectionately ruffling Sherlock’s hair, despite Sherlock’s protests.

 

Greg laughed, “I’m not surprised you fell asleep. That guy was bloody boring. I’m sorry I dragged you into this, usually this event has higher standards.” He spoke quietly so as not to be overheard.

 

John and Greg made small talk while Sherlock loitered behind John, letting his mind wander. It wasn’t long until Sherlock found his blood rushing south once more and stood behind John to hide his growing boner. He wrapped his arms around John’s waist and John leaned back into him which did nothing to help the state he was in.

 

“You alright, Sherlock?” Greg asked, probably noting his agitation and slight flush.

 

“Yeah,” Sherlock cleared his throat which only slightly alleviated his gruff voice. “Just sleepy I guess.”

 

“We should probably get home,” John said, and Sherlock was relieved to hear no edge in his voice, “We had a late night last night and that lecture almost put me to sleep too.”

 

“Fair enough,” Greg replied. “Think I’ll hit a pub myself, I don’t want to waste the whole day.”

 

“See you,” John said. Sherlock merely nodded in farewell.

 

Once they were out on the pavement under the twilight sky, John turned to Sherlock and once more pointedly assessed Sherlock’s situation. “You really are a mess,” he said fondly. “But I’m glad you behaved. Greg would have fainted if he noticed the state you’re in. Don’t think you’ll go unrewarded.” John leaned up to kiss Sherlock, sucking his tongue with almost no sense of propriety until Sherlock moaned softly. 

 

“Please John,” Sherlock whined, “can we go home.”

 

“Of course,” John rubbed Sherlock’s back and hailed an oncoming taxi. While in the taxi, John traced small patterns on Sherlock’s hand and forearm and Sherlock was far too sensitive to it yet couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand away.

 

When the cab pulled up at Baker Street, John paid the driver, not trusting Sherlock to interact with anyone without doing something incredibly indecent which, John believed, he would find quite advantageous once in the flat. John turned around as the cab drove away but found Sherlock had already disappeared and hurried to catch up with him in their flat.

 

Before John was even at the top of the stairs, he could hear Sherlock’s soft gasps through the open door. John walked in to see Sherlock on his leather chair with a hand shoved down his pants and his mouth open to emit small moans. John shut the door behind him before turning to the subject at hand with a smirk. 

 

“What are you doing?” John cooed. “Don’t want to finish yourself off too quickly now do you?”

 

Sherlock paused and turned to look at John. His hand stilled and he licked his lips before stuttering “N-no, sir?”

 

“Sir?” John asked raising an eyebrow.

 

“Daddy,” Sherlock corrected, looking at the floor and blushing slightly. 

 

“That’s a good boy,” John said, sliding onto Sherlock’s lap and started nipping and licking and sucking at Sherlock’s neck. Sherlock’s hands lay limply on the armchair, awaiting instruction as Sherlock continued moaning softly and grinding his hips against John’s ever so slightly.

 

“Daddy,” Sherlock said suddenly as John mouthed at his earlobe, “I need to pee.”

 

“Then do it,” John growled.

 

“But- But you look so nice in your suit, daddy. I don’t want to ruin it,” Sherlock gasped.

 

“Nice suits were made to be soiled,” John said, snaking a hand down to cup  Sherlock’s raging hard-on, he gently pulled it out of Sherlock’s pants and pumped it a few times. Sherlock’s lungs failed to breathe, hissing and gasping in turns but not giving him nearly enough oxygen. “Go ahead,” John cooed, biting his neck, “you know you want to.”

Sherlock yelped and finally released his bladder, moaning weakly as he found relief in the warmth saturating his tailored trousers and pooling slightly between their groins. “Good boy,” John whispered, “but someone ought to get you out of these clothes, you’re a right mess.”

 

Sherlock nodded weakly and followed John as he lead them back to their bedroom. Sherlock sat on the bed, dazed and staring blankly ahead, as John rummaged through their drawers for supplies. After placing his weapons of choice on the bedside table, John removed Sherlock’s jacket and hang it up, slowly disrobing Sherlock piece by piece. It wasn’t until Sherlock was totally naked and John began taking his clothes off that Sherlock took an interest in the proceedings. John unbuttoned his shirt and had it hanging open off his shoulders that Sherlock suddenly surged forward, sinking to his knees and undoing John’s fly. John gasped as Sherlock began mouthing John’s aching cock through his thin pants, despite the acidity of Sherlock’s own piss that had seeped through John’s trousers. John sank his fingers into Sherlock’s curls but soon used his grip to yank Sherlock’s head away, a string of saliva still binding John’s boner and Sherlock’s lips.

 

“You’re very eager, such a good boy,” John said, easing any rejection Sherlock might feel with the praise. “But I told you tonight I’m going to fuck you into this mattress until you beg and scream, and I plan on following through on that threat.”

 

Sherlock’s skin visibly turned to goosebumps as John used his grip on Sherlock’s hair to drag him onto the bed, Sherlock hastening to comply all the while. Once Sherlock was lying languidly on the bed, cock still hard as a diamond, John straddled his hips to keep him down.

 

“What are you going to do, daddy?” Sherlock grinned, trying to roll his hips under John’s but finding John’s weight pinning him to the bed.

 

“I think the cuffs will do,” John said, all too nonchalantly considering the context. John reached over to the bedside table and bound Sherlock’s wrists together above his hair before stretching over Sherlock to fish out a chain wedged between the mattress and the bed frame. While he was leaning over, Sherlock mouthed at John’s nipples and, for just a brief moment, John gave in and thrust his hips forcefully into Sherlock.

 

Sherlock gave a staccato yell in surprise. John secured the cuffs tightly to the chain to pin Sherlock’s hands to the bed and moved to sit between Sherlock’s legs while Sherlock struggled to regain control over his breathing. John didn’t give him a chance, leaning down to tongue lightly at the edges of Sherlock’s furled hole. Grinning in satisfaction at Sherlock’s cacophony of moans.

 

John was soon kissing Sherlock’s hole wetly and thrusting his tongue hard into Sherlock in turn. Sherlock instinctively went to move his hand into John’s hair to run his fingers through it and make his daddy dishevelled but Sherlock’s restraints cut into his wrist and Sherlock’s hips bucked in response. John sat up again, pumping two spit-slick fingers in and out of Sherlock and leaning over to get some lube.

 

“You alright?” John asked. Sherlock nodded but John pressed on, “use your words darling.” This was first and foremost for ease of communication but had the added benefit of making Sherlock have to work harder to please John and show just how dishevelled he’d become.

 

“So good daddy, it’s so good,” Sherlock replied with a gravelly voice.

 

“Good boy,” John whispered, kissing Sherlock sweetly on the mouth despite the taste on John’s lips.

 

John moved back to crouch between Sherlock’s legs now wasting no time in opening Sherlock as efficiently as possible but letting his hand stray to Sherlock’s cock every now and then to keep him focused.

 

John lubed up his cock and groaned when he was finally seated in Sherlock. John hoisted Sherlock’s legs to get better access and aimed a rough thrust at Sherlock’s prostate (having had much practice). Sherlock howled and tucked against his restraints once more while John set a punishing pace, making their bed slam against the wall in his passion.

 

Sherlock panted, begging “Please, please, John. Please.”

 

“What do you want?” John suspected but he had to hear Sherlock say it.

 

“I want- I  _ need _ to come. Please, John,” Sherlock gasped, his eyes closed and mouth agape in ecstasy.

 

John surged forward and pressed his lips wetly to Sherlock’s while reaching down to take Sherlock’s aching cock in his hand, smearing precome down the shaft and pumping in time with his thrusts.

 

“Come on, baby,” John said, “come for daddy.”

 

Sherlock did as he was told, arching his back and tugging on his restraints as he came. John moaned as Sherlock’s arse clenched around John’s dick and picked up his pace, snapping his hips forward and chasing oblivion. Soon John was emptying himself into Sherlock, biting on Sherlock’s lip to stifle his groan.

 

Finally, John slipped out and collapsed beside Sherlock, happy and sated. John looked over to Sherlock who was already dozing, despite the cuffs keeping his arms raised above him.

 

John huffed a laugh and leaned over to undo the cuffs and kiss Sherlock’s wrists, checking for any signs of harm. Sherlock batted John away drowsily, scrunching up his nose but refusing to open his eyes. “Sleep, John,” he mumbled. And John did.


End file.
